Life isn't fair: the result

OK, so the winner of the "Not Fair" competition is...

Tattie Weasle.

I empathised with all the ones about children getting out of bed at inappropriate times, and their lack of domestic abilities, and anything to do with the weather, or time off work, but ultimately, Tattie won the day, because hers involved the separation of a woman from her chocolate, and we all know that Hell hath no fury like a woman dealing with chocolate separation. I also particularly liked the fact that the secret chocolate stash shouldn't have been there in the first place, as Tattie had given it up for Lent. But what's the point of moral indignation, if you have to be logical at the same time? No point at all, is the answer to that one.

So Tattie, you can choose what I write about next: Guns, Religion, The Garage Sale, or how I teach my kids that life isn't fair (yes, I have chocolate bars locked in perspex boxes all round the house, and I keep the keys hanging round my neck, even when I sleep). Or any other burning topic, really. If you've always wondered something about life in America, life as an expat, or life as me in any of my other guises, then here's your chance to ask. I would send you a bar of chocolate as a prize, but I fear that (a) you fall on the Cadbury's side of the Hershey's vs Cadbury's debate, I just sense that about you, so I would only disappoint, and (b) it wouldn't be very nice after it had been mailed all the way from here.

And while we wait for Tattie to make her choice, tum-ti-tum, I'll just burble on about things that have happened in 5-yo's life here recently.

First, 5-yo asked me out of the blue yesterday "Are all burglars boys, or can you be a burglar if you're a girl?" They're only in Kindergarten for five minutes, and already they're worrying about career choice. It's tough growing up these days.

Then, we were at a friend's house, and the mom was explaining that she'd shut the dog outside, as he's a herding dog by breed, and likes to try and herd children, and that can be a little alarming for children who aren't used to it. I saw 5-yo's eyes getting wider and wider. She's already nervous of dogs, and I could see she was struggling with the idea of a dog who sets out to hurt children, and the existence of breeds of hurting dogs. That's what comes of learning your English from parents with a strange accent. Luckily I read her mind, and was able to explain.

But then there was the time I over-explained. We were headed for the doctor's office, to have what I was saying would be her last immunisation until she was at least 12 or 13. We had the usual routine in place: breathe out, breathe out (ah, the usefulness of NCT classes), and then when it's over here's a lolly for being brave. I was reassuring her that it wouldn't hurt very much at all, just a little prick as the needle went in. She did that eyes-getting-wider thing that she does, and her voice wavered "There's a needle?" Drat...

Onto happier things, and 5-yo is deep in the midst of planning her birthday party. She is so excited that it is March - finally. My mother has recently got connected with email (yay, Mum), and 5-yo was dictating a message to her. As she dictated, I typed the following:

"Remember it is the month of my birthday. It really is, isn't it? I am going to have an Arts and Crafts party at home. I'm inviting 7 people. 12-yo and 9-yo are going to be helpers. Daddy is going to take the photos. Mummy is going to watch. The boys are helpers again."

Yup, too right. Because I'm the slacker who'll do nothing at all in advance, and then just sit around watching as the party runs itself...

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